Disclaimer: Naruto is the property of Masashi Kishimoto.
Rated M: Due to coarse language, violence, and some adult themes.
What the hell was that?!
Sakura really hated those dreams where you thought you had saved yourself from the nightmare by waking up, only to find that you had skipped right into the next one that had been so cleverly disguised. But those eyes, and not just the eyes – everything – had been so lucid. From the way the bed creaked when she sprang up, to the soft, slumbered breathing coming from her very unwanted companion. Even the smell of her shampoo as she had raked nervous fingers through the tangled mess on her head – everything about it had screamed "real."
But here she was, panting like she had just narrowly escaped with her life as she stared into the empty space at the end of the bed.
The worst part was that she wasn't even sure she was truly awake yet because she had found herself in the same position as the last nightmare. It was as if she had sat up in her sleep and her own screaming had finally broken through her dream world. Deidara had jerked awake from the other side of the bed like he had been electrocuted. Her mind was working so hard to refute what her eyes had taken in: that Deidara had been turned away from her, his hair spread out like an ironic, golden halo, just as it had been in her nightmare.
She doesn't want to admit that right now she was glad to have his arms wrapped around her shoulders, holding her tightly against his chest as she shivered with the remnants of adrenaline-fueled terror. He was real and solid unlike whatever specter was lurking in her dreams.
Deidara had tried asking her what had happened while smoothing her hair down into some semblance of order, but she just shook her head.
How humiliating is this, huh? I just had a nightmare and woke up screaming like some little kid. This is exactly what I don't need happening in front of these Akatsuki. Get a grip, Sakura!
Gently, she disengages herself from the Akatsuki and mumbles something about going back to her room to get cleaned up. To her relief he didn't stop her; he just watched her edge her way to the door like a spooked deer before slipping out. Stepping into the hallway, Sakura broke out of her shaky daze and took off sprinting down to the other end where her room next to the Scorpion of the Red Sand's was beginning to look like a haven. There was something ominous about the wide, empty stretch of hallway that made her feel like a sitting duck for whatever happened to come along. She had already been caught here once by Hidan, but it wasn't the Jashinist who was plaguing her thoughts.
Sakura didn't look back so she missed the knowing glint in Deidara's eye as he came to his open doorway to watch Sakura slam her door shut behind her.
After taking her time in the bathroom with a steaming hot shower to relax her nerves and taught muscles, Sakura found a new set of clean clothes waiting for her on the edge of her bed. Wondering if Sasori had returned from his mission or if Deidara had temporarily taken over the duties of personal groomer, Sakura could only complain to herself about having zero control over even the most trivial of matters. She had only managed to snag the baggy ninja pants from yesterday by taking them from Sasori's own dresser while he was away. Combing her hair straight, Sakura was just beginning her morning ritual of reviewing everything she detested about the puppeteer, from the mundane annoyances to the most heinous of crimes. Needless to say, she had spent a great deal of time cultivating this extensive list of grievances.
Barely halfway through it, her ears perk up at the sound of something she hadn't expected to find in the Akatsuki base.
Music?
She drops her comb on the bed and goes to crack open her bedroom door. Sure enough, a pleasantly clear melody greets her ears as she takes a small step out of her room. Astonished, she recognizes that it isn't a recording either; someone is playing an instrument, a shamisen if she isn't mistaken.
Debating with herself for only a moment, Sakura decides to leave the imagined security of her room in favor of investigating. In truth, it was purely curiosity that drove her to seek out the player. In no way did she figure such intel would ever prove useful once she made it back to Konoha, but the desire to know who was behind the beautiful music was compelling her forward much like Deidara's little clay performance had captivated her.
Carefully, she follows the tune to the fork at the end of the hallway and takes the left branch, only hesitating for a second at the thought of running into The Lurker. But surely whoever was responsible for such beautiful music couldn't be her creepy, unknown visitor. It just didn't seem compatible in her head. Whoever was capable of producing such a stunningly pure sound wasn't the same person. Perhaps the Akatsuki had hired a musician to entertain them? While that possibility didn't seem to ring true, Sakura forges on, expanding her mental map of the Akatsuki base along the way.
Close to the middle of this branch she spots an open doorway, the music flowing out loud and clear. With anticipation rising in her chest, she slows her confident strides down to timid, tip-toe-like steps and peeks around the doorframe.
Shocked, Sakura quietly clears her throat of the saliva she nearly choked on. She hadn't known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't the sight of that man sitting demurely on a large, maroon seat cushion in the middle of a room devoid of any other furnishings, save for a single window. Vaguely, Sakura thought to herself that she had finally found a real window, not like that fake, warped thing in the room she always took her morning tea in. This one was small, but cast enough natural light into the room that Sakura could see the dust moats swirling in the beams of sunshine.
And it was a shamisen as she had guessed.
But that was it. It was just one window, one shamisen, and one Itachi Uchiha in a room Sakura was no longer sure she wanted to enter.
But the young man, famed for murdering his own clan on a night that should have been like any other in Konoha, had not looked up to acknowledge her presence. Not sure if she should appreciate the reprieve from facing the Sharingan eyes, or if she should feel insulted, Sakura shifts her weight from one foot to the other in indecision. She knew that Itachi was aware of her looming in the doorway, and had probably been alerted of her presence since she set foot out into the hallway. To think any less of his abilities would have been a death wish.
While Sakura contemplated his non-reaction to her obvious eavesdropping, she began to pick up on the familiarity of the song he was playing. That Itachi played a musical instrument was surprising – that he was a master at it was not. What came as further surprise to the girl was that he knew a song Sakura hadn't heard since her childhood when her mom would tell her stories before bedtime and, on occasion, sing.
Sakura nearly jumps when he brings his head up to glance at her, but is somewhat reassured by the lack of challenge she finds within their vermillion depths. While mesmerizing in a haunting sort of way, he didn't give off the feeling of a mass murderer. She had to remind herself that's exactly what he was. But it was hard when their gazes didn't so much as clash, but softly click into place; as if they weren't two enemies about to face off, but two strangers seeking one another's acceptance. It was disconcerting.
If memory served her right, he was nearing the song's end. What it was called, she couldn't quite remember, or even if her mother had told her. But, she could still recall a few lines here and there and as Itachi came upon it, the final verse burst through the fogginess of long-forgotten bedtimes and refused to be ignored.
It sings for the lies and children's' cries of promises long ago.
It sings for the tortured hearts and broken minds.
It sings for spring.
It sings for life.
It sings for freedom despite the strife.
It sings for the intangible, yet teasing taste
Of something unknown.
Sakura hadn't even realized she'd been humming along with the melody until the last few reverberations from Itachi's masterfully plucked chords echoed through the room. With a light blush adorning her cheeks, as if apologizing for doing something wrong, she bashfully looks up into the ex-Leaf nin's eyes. But he says nothing, not reprimanding her for joining in on the song, for in truth, he didn't mind the young woman's company. She was a little piece of home he'd been denying himself for years.
Neither welcoming her to come in and sit down, nor shooing her away, Sakura was left standing in the uncertain limbo of the door frame. Itachi's fingers began weaving a different song.
Ah, what the hell.
Taking at first a small, hesitant step forward, then several larger ones as it didn't raise any protest, Sakura carefully plots her route to the corner of the room nearest the exit, though she knew such precautionary measures were laughable when he could still easily catch her if he wanted.
The new song was one she wasn't familiar with, but it was much slower than the previous one and lacked its light, airy quality. This one was certainly more woeful and though she had never been one to tear up at beautiful music before, Sakura felt the annoying prickling sensation behind her eyes and stubbornly willed it into submission. When the final note hung in the air like heavy regret, Sakura watched as Itachi positioned the instrument to rest comfortably on his lap. He was free of his Akatsuki cloak and though her better judgment warned her against it, Sakura couldn't resist scanning his form for all the similarities of her old teammate.
There were so many there, staring straight back at her like a taunt, that it was painful.
Now that he had stopped playing, Sakura was quickly made aware of the fact that she had no reason to stick around. She had intruded into his space for the sole purpose of finding who was behind the alluring sound, and although he had not objected to her listening in on him, she was now faced with the very scary possibility that she would have to talk to the man who had the greatest, severest impact on Sasuke's life.
Never in a million years would I have thought I'd be in this situation.
"Sakura Haruno…I am Itachi Uchiha," he inclines his head toward her politely.
Sakura is stunned by the surrealness of the situation and finds herself unable to form a response. Fortunately, she supposes, Itachi seems to sense her unease and continues, "You know why the caged bird sings?"
Confused by the abnormal question, Sakura's eyebrows scrunch together in light distress as she tries to respond without coming across as completely ignorant, "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean. The caged bird?"
Ugh, why'd I apologize? He's the one talking nonsense here!
"The song you walked in on," he prompts, not a hint of irritation in his voice, "It is called 'Why the Caged Bird Sings'."
Sakura's attention quickly locks onto those words. There it was again. Hadn't Deidara already mentioned to her about knowing why the caged bird sings? For some reason the phrase wouldn't leave her alone.
Trying her best to mask her confusion, Sakura replies, "Yes, I remember it from when I was little, but it's been a while since I've heard it. I didn't even know it was called that."
Itachi makes a "hn" noise in his throat that was so reminiscent of Sasuke she has to catch herself from smiling.
"What's the name of the other song you played? I've never heard it before," Sakura questions.
"That one is called 'The Hero's Lament'," he answers, noting with mild amusement the way her head tilts to the side in consideration of the song's title.
"Do you play?" he asks, shifting the weight of the shamisen in his lap.
"O-oh, no!" Sakura laughs lightly, flustered, "I can't play any instruments. I'm no good in music."
I'm not some Uchiha prodigy who has everything come to him so easily.
"That is not what I have come to understand. You have a beautiful voice. There is no need to be so modest, Sakura," he rolls his tongue over her name so easily, with a familiarity that sends tingles down her spine.
"So you heard me sing back in Konoha's prison when I thought I was…" she wafts her hand through the air, too embarrassed to finish it aloud, but knowing he'd understand her meaning.
"Yes," Itachi says simply, mercifully leaving unsaid what she couldn't bring herself to say.
Their conversation hits a pause and she watches Itachi check the tuning of his instrument. Apparently satisfied with its condition, he rises to his feet, placing the shamisen down on the seat cushion. Sakura scrambles to her feet, uncertain of what his intentions could be. He had been cordial and polite so far, but she knew the amicable façade would drop soon enough. Putting the fact that he was Sasuke's older brother aside, he was still an Akatsuki.
He walks to the door, and just as Sakura thought he meant to leave without so much as a parting word, he inclines his neck in a way that Sakura understood he meant for her to follow.
Her head felt light, like it was floating ten feet above her grounded body. Here she was, walking side by side with a notorious clan killer. Itachi led her through a maze of hallways that frustrated her plans of memorizing the floor plan for the Akatsuki base. All the halls were pretty much indistinguishable from the one Sasori and Deidara confined her to. With dismay, she realized she'd have to rely on Itachi to guide her back if she ever wanted to make it back to her room without Sasori discovering she had snuck out.
If he hasn't already…
With that gloomy thought hanging over her head, she barely has time to snap back to attention and keep herself from bumping into Itachi when he stops in front of a set of shoji screen doors.
Did we somehow circle back to the tea room?
But that idea is quickly dispelled as Itachi wordlessly ushers her inside ahead of him.
It was a large, indoor rock garden, and not for the first time, Sakura wanted to know just how much money the Akatsuki had at their disposal.
That Kakuzu must be really good with finances.
The room was spacious, and Sakura observed the wraparound porch that enclosed the rectangular plot of earth, providing pathways to a number of other closed doors that one could use to access the garden She wondered who was the one left to take care of the impressively raked lines and concentric rings in the tiny gravel and realized she wouldn't be surprised if it was the man she had followed here. She had already found he had one interesting hobby, so why not rock gardening?
What Sakura liked best about this new room was that she could see the sky. The ceiling, or roof (whatever one wished to call it), was a peaked, glass affair and Sakura relished the thought of being so close to freedom. The sky that was tantalizingly within reach was a swirling mass of gray and white, heavy with the promise of a downpour, but it was the most beautiful thing Sakura had seen in a long time.
Itachi had leapt from rock to rock, or rather from boulder to boulder, to a flat meditation rock in the center and was sitting comfortably in a cross-legged position, his eyes focused on Sakura. Waiting.
Not to look pathetic, Sakura set her jaw and jumped to the nearest rock from the porch, refusing to mar the meticulous designs just as Itachi had been careful not to do. Without any chakra to call to her aid, Sakura had to get a running start to clear the huge leaps separating the rocks. Taking nearly five times the amount of time Itachi had, and feeling quite clumsy, Sakura finally managed to reach the end of the same rock he sat on. Breathing heavily from the exertion, Sakura fixed the Uchiha with a triumphant look.
Sakura Haruno didn't back down from a challenge.
Itachi didn't comment on her success. After Sakura had situated herself on the rock and tucked her skirt under her legs, she was confounded to look up and see the corners of the Akatsuki's mouth turned up ever so slightly. Sakura's senses were on high alert, not knowing what to expect since he was acting so docile. So human.
"This must be quite difficult for you to endure. How are they treating you?" his voice is soft and inviting. If Sakura hadn't known the atrocities he had committed, she would have been lulled into a false sense of comfort. Even so, she hadn't imagined just how much of an effect the pretense of friendship would have on her in this place. A shred of kindness sprinkled with sympathy was all it took to make her doubt him and everything she knew about Itachi Uchiha.
Sakura's face turns stony, weary of what game he was trying to lead her into. Itachi was a genjutsu expert after all; he substituted reality with lie after lie to build a perfect, seamless world under his control.
"You should know. You're in the same organization as them. You're of the same class," Sakura's voice comes out razor sharp.
Itachi regards her with an amused quirk of an eyebrow, "Is that so?" he crosses his arms, his eyes closed in consideration, "Perhaps you expect something more like this – ''
Sakura doesn't even flinch at the sensation of a kunai's pointed tip kissing the nape of her neck. This was more along the lines of what she had in mind.
"From someone like me," Itachi finishes quietly, his voice coming from above Sakura's head despite the fact she was looking right at him and his mouth wasn't moving.
The clone dissipated into a murder of crows and Sakura could only feel the warmth emanating from the real Itachi crouching at her back.
Monsters will always revert back to their true nature soon enough.
"This is precisely what I expected from you," Sakura replies, seemingly indifferent to the fact she had a kunai poised to sever her spinal cord. Despite her blasé tone, Sakura was riddled with as much tension as a stretched bow.
"Hn," her antagonizer sounds in disapproval, "You were a student of Kakashi Hatake, were you not?"
"Yes," Sakura confirms slowly, not knowing where he could possibly be going with this question.
Sakura feels the wind at her back and Itachi is once again in her field of vision, looking for all the world as if he had never moved from his seat on the rock. The kunai had disappeared from his hand and Sakura had the irrational desire to reach for the one she had concealed on her person.
"Hatake is an enthusiast of the saying 'looking underneath the underneath,' if I am not mistaken. I would have thought after spending some time under his mentorship that bit of wisdom would have rubbed off on his students," Itachi says with a blank face, giving away none of the intent behind his words.
But Sakura takes offense to them nonetheless. Was he mocking her intelligence? Or maybe he was bad-mouthing Kakashi's teaching abilities in some roundabout way? Sakura grits her teeth. It was hard to tell because she hadn't a clue as to what he meant to accomplish by saying all of this.
"And what exactly do you mean by that?" she goes to painstaking lengths to remain cool and collected.
Itachi unfolds his legs, stretching them out to cross one over the other in a leisurely manner as if he was settling down for a friendly conversation that was bound to go on for some time.
"I am only suggesting that you should be more aware of the possibility that things are not as they appear. Even the shadows have shadows hiding within them. Reality and truth are merely perceptions that can have entirely incongruous meanings to different people."
Perhaps observing her baffled expression and realizing that his words had gone clear over her head, Itachi gives a good-natured sigh and explains, "For instance, you assumed that I wished to harm you without the slightest provocation. Why is this?"
You're a psychopath who massacred his family and betrayed his village by joining a criminal organization whose mission is to capture and kill all of the jinchuriki, including one of my closest friends.
Of course Sakura didn't voice such opinions and when Itachi gathered that she wasn't prepared to answer, he continues, "It is because of your perception of me. A profile of who I am as part of the Akatsuki. It is something that is crafted. As shinobi, we are expected to swallow certain truths without question so as that we can perform our duties with the utmost competence. But that is not always wise."
"You're talking about loyalty to the village, aren't you? When we have to, as you say, 'swallow certain truths,' it's so we can protect the village and take out any threats without hesitation," Sakura pierces Itachi with a furious glare, "What? Are you saying that loyal shinobi are blindly devoted to something they don't even fully understand while your betrayal is actually a good thing? Like you're somehow superior?"
Sakura's disgust at the notion is evident. She was a kunoichi of Konoha through and through and Itachi felt something within him stir.
"You misunderstand. In any case, loyalties to villages aside, my point of bringing all of this up is much more relevant to your current circumstances. Have you given any thought as to why you are here, Sakura?" Itachi's hand wanders up to his necklace in a seemingly unconscious gesture, but Sakura figured nothing about Itachi could ever be construed as non-calculated.
Sakura cocks her head to the side, "Well, it's obvious…Sasori wants to turn me into one of his puppets as a revenge of sorts."
Itachi's head moves ever so slightly in the negative, from side to side, "This is why you should consider your old squad leader's teachings more carefully. When you come to realize the situation in its entirety, you will find that any escape plans you may have concocted up until now will prove quite useless."
His tone is flat with finality and Sakura is struck with the thought that Itachi's motive for having this little chat session was just to cow her into submission, to remind her that she was almost comically out of her league and that she should just spare everyone the effort and not make a nuisance of herself with trying to escape.
Then the Uchiha completely throws her for a loop when he says, "Be more careful, Sakura. The Akatsuki are notorious for a reason. Use your instincts; you will find that trust is something that can only be given sparingly here, if at all."
Trust? It's not like I would ever let myself trust anyone in Akatsuki.
Sakura peers up at the sky overhead that had darkened considerably in the short amount of time she had been in the rock garden. Wherever the Akatsuki base happened to be, whether they were high up or in some secluded area, the only thing visible through that expanse of glass was a vast, swirling grayness.
Feeling burdened with Itachi's words, Sakura withdraws into herself, her thoughts churning around the possible implications of Itachi's warning to "be more careful". So, while having a kunai pressed to her skin hadn't startled her in the slightest, Sakura was alarmed by the booming voice that called across the graveled lawn.
"Itachi-san! So this is where you've been. I was beginning to lose hope of ever finding you," someone calls out amicably.
Sakura wonders how someone could ever be happy to run into Itachi Uchiha, much less actually go looking for him. Except for Sasuke, of course…
She also wonders at the peculiarity of the newcomer's statement. How could he not find a fellow Akatsuki's chakra signature? Sakura herself couldn't sense it (or the newcomer's for that matter), but she had a valid excuse for that. The only explanation was that Itachi had been expertly concealing it. While he was with her.
Sakura didn't like that.
"Kisame," his partner greets peaceably.
Sakura's eyes widen marginally in alarm. So she was about to be introduced to the Monster of the Hidden Mist. She couldn't see him and because she couldn't see him, she knew exactly where he was.
"But it looks like you weren't lonely in my absence at all…In fact," Sakura can't see it, but she can hear the clack as Kisame's pointed teeth click together in a smile, "It seems you had some lovely company."
Sakura bites her lip, not enjoying the teasing that was about her, yet not directed at her. Itachi makes a noncommittal sound in his throat and the hairs on the back of Sakura's neck stand on end. She had yet to turn and face the new arrival, almost wishing she was immobilized by Sasori's chakra threads so that she at least had an acceptable reason for it. Instead, she refused to turn and give him the satisfaction of seeing the anxiety she knew was scrawled all over her face. But Kisame wasn't going to stand back in her shadow forever.
He had heard of the fifth hokage's apprentice and how, despite her small physique and pink hair, she wasn't someone to get in a fistfight with. He hadn't seen it first hand, but Sasori's accounts of his battle with the little kunoichi made her sound like an earthquake with a pretty face. He wanted to see for himself if she was worth the admiration for more than just her looks.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Kisame Hoshigaki," he introduces himself formally, not at all expecting the girl to return the politeness.
When she does, Kisame hides his surprise behind a toothy grin.
"Sakura Haruno. It's…," she hesitates for only an instant on her word choice and settles for mimicking his, "A pleasure to meet someone of such ill repute."
The way she says it, with smiling eyes and a sweet, girlish voice fitting for someone of her age, but not of her profession, one would almost forget that her words were actually not complimentary in the slightest. But Sakura couldn't quite displace the small, sly smile from her face.
Kisame's rough guffaw meets her ears and Sakura is puzzled as to how someone of his stature could have such an odd blend of polite respectfulness and aggressive gruffness.
"Watch yourself, little girl. Someone around here might mistake those for fighting words," Kisame wags a finger in her direction as though admonishing a mouthy child, stepping around the rock to go stand near Itachi's side. Sakura realizes all the effort she had put in to avoid disturbing the order of the rock garden had been wasted; Kisame certainly didn't seem to have any quarrels with stepping through the raked designs.
She sizes Kisame up, noting his towering height (even greater than Kakuzu's) and the uncanny blue hue of his skin. He truly did look like something caught mid-transformation between man and sea creature. The animalistic quality of his round, beady eyes was unnerving.
Meanwhile, she can tell Kisame is doing the same, his eyes tracing her body so obviously she can practically feel his invasive hands on her skin. When his eyes finally drag back up to her face, she's waiting for him with narrowed eyes and a frown so deep it might have been carved in stone.
"Whoa there, kunoichi. Smile. It's the second best thing you can do with that pretty, little – ''
"Finish that comment and I'll be able to tell you with my pretty, little mouth what's big and blue and red all over," Sakura cracks her knuckles for effect as her skin flushes a warning shade of red.
Her threat is met with Kisame's bellowing laugh, "You have some fight in you. I like that."
"Then you'll really love my fist through your head," Sakura bluffs. Exchanging verbal barbs was about the extent of her ability to fight off the Akatsuki who plagued her.
But Kisame was struck with an idea and his cunning, sharky smile made Sakura weary. Jumping up on the rock as if he was just taking a casual step forward, Sakura watched him with growing suspicion as he closed in on her.
"All that aggression building up can't be good for you," he continues smiling, "What do you say I help you burn some of it off? You and me, a relaxing spar?"
Sakura stares at him dumbfounded. Wasn't he coming onto her only a minute ago and now he was trying to talk her into a fight? But Sakura's sharp intellect grasped onto the opportunity like an iron clamp.
"Alright," she accepts, "But you see, it wouldn't really be fair in my condition."
Sakura lifts her fists up from her lap as though they were handcuffed, prominently showing off the blue chakra suppressors clinging to her wrists. An unspoken request hung in the air between the two adversaries. She knew they would have to be removed, not because Kisame Hoshigaki was a stickler for fair fights, but because the match would be over before it even started. He wouldn't want it to be boring. However, she was also aware that Kisame (and the now silent Uchiha) would have their guards raised even more once they came off, making her snowball's chance in hell escape attempt even more impossible. But to not try…would be like betraying her village.
Kisame's eyes were fixed on the bands, a knowing smirk on his pale blue lips telling Sakura he knew what thoughts were running through her head. Still, he was going to do what she wanted. She could feel it. With her heart thumping in anticipation as Kisame closed the distance between them, Sakura held her breath as his own blue hands encased her wrists to release the seals on the matching bangles.
Air escapes her mouth in a rough exhale as his grip suddenly tightens to a near bone-crushing hold. Fearing she miscalculated him, had assumed too much, Sakura can do little to resist as the man referred to as the Tailed Beast without a Tail, yanks her to her feet.
"Before I remove these like I know you're dying for me to do, I think it only right that you discard all concealed weapons. This sparring match is going to be purely taijutsu so it's only fair, Sakura," the swordsman sneers the word.
How on Earth could he possibly know?
Sakura feels herself being spun around, each of her hands caught in the hold of a much larger blue one, her arms raised to accommodate the height difference.
Itachi, who had been a silent observer to her entire interaction with his partner, strides forward and shocks Sakura by kneeling before her with his focus entirely on her legs. Specifically, her right leg, where within her boot she had hidden the kunai dropped by Hidan. She marvels at the silent communication that had flowed between the two Akatsuki; Kisame hadn't even pointed out where the weapon was, but Itachi had located it without hesitation.
He knew. He knew the entire damn time!
With one hand locked under her kneecap, Itachi's fingers ghost along her bare skin as they slip into the interior of her boot to trace down the inside of her calf for the elusive weapon. Frustrated with her one little piece of hope being taken away before she can even make use of it, Sakura lifts her left foot off the ground to deliver a swift kick to the Sharingan user's side.
But foreseeing her devious thinking, Kisame hooks his own foot on the inside of hers and Sakura can't help but feel like she's trapped in some sort of odd, pseudo-tango pose. Itachi quickly slides the kunai from her boot and rises to his full height. Sakura watches with longing eyes as her kunai disappears into the weapon pouch hooked onto his back pocket.
Kisame lowers her arms, but doesn't release his grasp on them. With her hands pinned behind her back like a criminal being taken into custody, she feels a thrumming vibration run through the metal bands and feels Kisame's fingers slip them over her hands.
Finally, she was free of those abominations.
The pink-haired girl relished in the feeling of chakra coursing through her body; it had always been there, but had been barred from rising up whenever she had called upon it. And now, since she had been denied use of it since Danzo had first had her imprisoned, her chakra had built up to full capacity. Sakura was raring to go.
Bring it, Akatsuki. Cha!
She spun on her heel to watch the chakra suppressors being slipped up the sleeve of Kisame's cloak. She only wished he hadn't taken possession of them so she could have had the pleasure of grinding them into dust under her foot.
Kisame hoists Samehada from its holster on his back and plants it firmly into the gravel. Sakura knew better than to try to make a grab for it and wield it against its owner; she had heard of Guy's folly in this pursuit.
"Well then, now that that's taken care of, let's establish some ground rules. One, we keep it confined to the garden. Don't want to cause too much damage. And two," Kisame thrusts his second finger up in a mockery of the peace sign, "No escape attempts. Wouldn't want to have to chop off those pretty legs of yours."
Sakura nods her assent, her eyes sharp as she plans on how to break both of Kisame's rules without getting caught.
"Ok then, kunoichi. Let's go."
Barely having processed what he just said, his tone calm so as not to reveal his thrill for the fight, Sakura could only duck as Kisame's kick came right for her face. As Sakura was quickly figuring out, Kisame was relentless and he had a massive storage of chakra, much greater than her own which hadn't been used in weeks. It was incredible.
Even in close combat, which Sakura excelled at, she doubted she could win against Kisame even though he had limited himself to only taijutsu.
But I don't need to win. I just have to escape.
That in itself would be victory enough.
Sakura dodges a quick series of jabs to her side, turning her momentum into a cartwheel and ending with a back tuck to face her opponent. She locked eyes with Kisame and felt like she was staring down an intelligent predator. She had read the reports from the few who had encountered Kisame and lived to tell the tale. Despite his size and obvious love for the fight, he was fast and analytical. Sakura couldn't drag this sparring match on for too long or her true intentions were going to show through and she was going to lose too much chakra on trying to make it look convincing.
Sakura bounces lightly on her toes, sensing Kisame's rising irritation as he delivers strike after strike while she consistently evades contact. They wind their way through the boulders, fine-grained gravel kicking up at their feet. Sakura was doing her best to keep tabs on her position relative to the door she and Itachi had entered through, trying not to let her eyes wander in its direction too much.
"I didn't ask for a dance, kunoichi," Kisame growls out through a menacing grin.
It was true Sakura's showing was less than spectacular. She had been successful in maneuvering away from Kisame's far-reaching limbs, narrowly escaping an elbow to the back of her head, yet she had been on the defensive the entire time. Clearly, she would have to go on the offensive to keep him occupied while she made a break for it.
Still, truly confronting Kisame would increase her risk of injury, further diminishing her chances at successfully escaping.
Kisame's roundhouse kick meets Sakura's stomach with a solid thud! and she sails backwards into the unforgiving edge of the meditation rock Itachi was observing them from. Walking to her crumpled form, Kisame's triumph is mixed with disappointment at Sakura's lack of skill.
'Sasori-san was obviously exaggerating about her, probably to make himself look better since he got stuck fighting a little girl and – '
Kisame's musings are abruptly broken off as the pink-haired girl springs up from her back, and barely catches sight of the green fire blazing determinedly within her eyes before he's forced to jump to the side to avoid her butterfly kick.
"So you were holding back on me, eh?"
Sakura answers with a punch that makes Kisame grit his teeth in pain as he stops it with his hand, his fingers stinging in protest until he surges extra chakra into the appendage to cushion the blow. Nonetheless, he's forced to widen his stance for balance as he's unwillingly pushed backward. Sakura scowls in frustration as she tries to disengage her trapped fist, but her opponent makes use of his hold on her to flip her over his head and sling her into the ground like a ragdoll. Gravel bites into her cheek and she manages to rise up to her elbows in time to literally be kicked while she's still down. Kisame's heel digs uncomfortably into Sakura's stomach and she winces as his weight is pressed into the same spot he managed to land a kick earlier.
Sadistic bastard.
He didn't appear to be out of breath in the slightest while Sakura could already feel the sweat prickling on her forehead.
Kisame bends down to reach for her exposed throat and he admires the graceful curve of it as well as her soft skin, warm beneath his touch. Lifting her head off the ground, his fingers flex threateningly around her neck, a silent declaration that the match was as good as over and he had won.
His fingers close around air as Sakura poofs away.
"A clone. You little sneak," Kisame's tone is jovial, not the least bit upset to be denied his victory. The little girl was proving herself to be much more interesting.
He tries to catch sight of her telltale pink hair and gets a brief glimpse before a slender, but surprisingly strong arm snakes around his own neck.
"Sorry, I hope you don't mind," Sakura replies without a hint of apology in her voice. She tightens her hold across his larynx, restricting his air flow and reducing any complaints Kisame may have had to unintelligible choking noises. With her legs wrapped tightly around his torso, she had effectively pinned his arms against his sides.
Still, even if she was curious to see if his face would turn purple from asphyxiation (or if it would simply turn a deeper shade of blue), Sakura couldn't have him passing out. That would leave her with Itachi to contend with.
No, she had to keep this fight strictly between Kisame and herself so that Itachi wouldn't be tempted to interfere. As long as she was convincing, she might be able to get Kisame riled up enough so he wouldn't want his partner to step in no matter what the circumstances. No matter what, she needed Itachi to remain a passive observer.
But she didn't have to worry about Kisame passing out from oxygen deprivation as the Akatsuki already had an idea in mind to get free. Sakura, clinging to the swordsman's back like an unruly koala bear, wasn't in a position to see the smile that stretched her hostage's pale blue lips.
Kisame simply let go and gravity did the rest.
Sakura's eyes, scrunched in pain, hungrily take in the dark sky above while everything from her chest down feels like it's being compressed to the width of a pancake. Her ribcage struggles to expand so much needed air could flow into her burning lungs, but her efforts are futile. Kisame's bulk is immovable and her only option is to release her hold on his neck.
Relinquishing her chokehold, her hands get within inches of his broad shoulders to push Kisame off her, but her wrists are slapped back into the gravel as Kisame does a backward tumble. Squatting near her head, his sharp teeth inches away from her face, Deidara's warnings about monsters in the Akatsuki circle through Sakura's brain.
"Not bad, kid," he tells her pleasantly, taking note of the rapid rise and fall of her chest as ragged pants escape her mouth.
Sakura doesn't acknowledge the comment. She swings her right leg up to catch Kisame on the side of the face with her foot. Kisame's grip loosens just enough at the shock of pain so that Sakura can wrench her arms free. Quickly, she puts some distance between herself and the Akatsuki. She watches as the ex-Mist nin carefully prods his lower jaw, rotating it around until it sickeningly pops into place. Sakura takes an involuntary step backward as Kisame's head jerks up to pierce her with a look that sends chills down her spine.
A wounded predator can be even more dangerous to deal with.
He charges at her, blurring before her very eyes until a blow to her back sends her stumbling forward. Correcting her balance, Sakura turns in time to block a second punch to her face, but Kisame counters with a low spinning kick to knock her legs out from underneath her. Scrabbling for purchase in the gravel, Sakura darts out of reach and Kisame jumps for higher ground on top of one of the rounded boulders.
Sakura hated to admit it to herself, but she was wearing out already. Stamina had never been her strong suit, and all those weeks spent imprisoned rather than training were starting to show. This needed to wrap up quickly if she was going to have enough energy to make it home.
And she knew, with the Akatsuki on her trail, it would be at breakneck pace the whole way.
Let's end this.
Perhaps sensing a change in her demeanor, Kisame drops his antagonizing grin and mirrors her own serious expression with composure. Neither moves as they stare one another down and, in the silence, Sakura can make out the pitter patter of rain against the glass high above them.
One.
Sakura clenches her right hand in a fist, missing the comforting fit of her worn leather gloves that had been thrown away back in Konoha's prison. Surreptitiously, she checks her positioning. It was about as good as she could hope for.
Two.
Kisame's eyes dart from the tiny fist at her side to the stance of her legs. For once, the girl's expressive face was carefully schooled into an unreadable mask.
Three!
Sakura explodes in a burst of speed and Kisame can only wonder at her foolishly gutsy move to go for an obvious frontal attack. 'That will never work on me, kid.'
But Sakura launches herself in the air, flying towards Kisame in a graceful, deadly arc. He jumps backwards out of range and watches as her fist comes crashing down into the rock's surface where he had been standing a split second ago…
And gapes wide-eyed as he's forced to retreat even further away as the boulder crumbles into small fragments of sediment that fly out everywhere from the point of impact.
This was exactly what he had been hoping for. He glances around for the little Leaf nin to offer his praise, but has trouble locating her through the billowing clouds of rock dust. He does, however, make out the massive form of another rock, even larger than the one she had just demolished, hurtling straight towards him. Leaping skyward, he watches as the projectile collides with another boulder, rippling the air with a teeth-gritting, bone-rattling kind of sound.
But he has yet to catch sight of the little girl who had managed to live up to expectation. Opening up his senses and sending out a probing tendril of chakra over the now less than orderly garden, Kisame pinpoints Sakura's position and lets out a frustrated growl.
"I thought we had an agreement over the rules, girl," Kisame's polite speech is tinged with an unmistakable edge, "You weren't going to try to escape!"
His booming voice echoes off the surrounding rocks as he gives chase to the small, pink-headed form racing away to the farthest side of the indoor garden. Sakura knows only a few strides separate her from her pursuer, and swiftly leaps to the nearest boulder, Kisame following shortly after. Sakura heads straight for her destination: the tallest rock in the entire garden, the type of natural structure that looked as if it was made for the miserable urchins of Earth to climb to its very peak and bask in the light of the gods. Furiously, Sakura launches herself at its stormy gray side, applying chakra to the soles of her feet as she sprints up the nearly vertical incline to the top.
It was then that Kisame realized exactly how Sakura intended to make her escape. Reaching the rock's summit, Sakura sends a considerable amount of chakra into her legs to push off, and she goes airborne, like an arrow shot straight and true for the sky. Only a simple pane of glass separated her from her prize and she pulls back her fist to take care of it.
But before fist can meet glass, a fierce grip on her ankle slows her momentum right before she feels her entire course of direction changing as she's swung around one hundred and eighty degrees. Now Earth-bound, she can do little to slow her impending crash landing. She smacks the ground far below, sending up a spray of sand and rubble – and a cloud of smoke. Kisame's disbelieving eyes burn into the spot where the little girl should have been sprawled out in a broken, exhausted heap.
But there was nothing.
Giddy with nerves and adrenaline, the real Sakura races for her life through the Akatsuki base. If she thought fooling Kisame was the tricky part of the plan, she hadn't properly factored in the difficulty of navigating the maze of hallways in search of another exit.
But she couldn't erase what was surely a slightly manic smile from her face, positively elated that she had successfully fooled the Akatsuki with her diversion. Trying to break through the glass roof of the garden had been the obvious escape route for anyone in her position who had use of her chakra. It had taken more chakra than she would have liked to convince Kisame that she was truly invested in the sparring match, but if she could manage to get out of this place it would be well worth it.
Aware that her clone had already been dispelled, she adds another burst of speed to her already frantic pace. Closed doors on either side blur past in dark smears of color. Right now, she was banking on her ability to find the room she had discovered Itachi in earlier. The window had been small, but she was certain she could fit through it with some wriggling and it would lead her straight to the outside world.
To finally be free…!
Excitement fizzled in her blood as her memory led her around one corner and then another. But as the seconds ticked by and her panic continued to build, knowing that an enraged Kisame was hot on her trail, Sakura began to worry she had made a wrong turn.
None of this looks familiar!
Indeed, she was certain she had gotten it wrong somewhere along the way as she couldn't recall passing such an impressive set of ornate, scarlet doors, gilded with golden swirls and frescoes. Fearsome eyes of beasts from legend stared back at her angrily as she raced by.
Only marginally slowing her rapid strides as her mind worked furiously to come up with a solution, Sakura was just about to start opening doors at random. As long as she found one with a window she could get to, she didn't care if she walked in on the rest of the Akatsuki sitting around having tea time.
But just as this absurd image entered her head, Sakura felt the wind knocked out of her as she was sent falling forward, smacking her face against the small, beige tiles that were polished to gleaming perfection. An uncomfortable weight settled on her lower back, but it was much too light to be Kisame. She knew quite well how heavy he was; her lungs were still sore from being crushed underneath his muscled bulk. Her arms were pinned behind her painfully like clipped wings and someone's hand snagged a handful of hair at the nape of her neck, compelling her to lift her face off the floor.
The weight on her back shifts forward ever so slightly and warm expulsions of breath tickle her neck as Itachi speaks softly, "I do believe I mentioned that any of your escape attempts would be foolish."
Sakura struggles beneath him, infuriated with his knowing tone as she attempts to throw him off. Itachi responds by making use of his hold on her hair, and wraps the cherry blossom pink strands around his hand, pulling them taught until Sakura stills beneath him and wills the hot tears out of her eyes.
"Be sure you do not make the same mistake twice," he murmurs, relaxing his hold on her trapped locks and running his fingers through them in a manner that could almost be considered affectionate.
As Itachi rises from Sakura's back, he helps lift her to her feet and Kisame calmly joins them, having trusted his partner to track down the escapee as he went after the clone.
"Well, well, the little runaway got farther than I thought she would," Kisame's voice lazily drawls as he approaches the two, "I think she's missing something though."
Kisame's malicious smile intensifies at Sakura's dismay as she eyes the familiar chakra suppressors pinched between his fingers. Sighing in defeat, she allows Itachi to raise her arms while Kisame slips them back over her wrists and seals them. Once again, her own chakra is taken away.
Deeming her even less of a threat with the chakra suppressors firmly in place again, Itachi drops her arms and turns to head down the hall. Kisame makes a point of gesturing with his eyes for Sakura to follow and she glumly obeys with Kisame trailing closely behind should she decide to make any unwarranted detours.
With growing trepidation, Sakura rises from her depression long enough to observe the familiarity of the hallways they were now passing through. Sooner than she would have liked, the trio ended up in territory Sakura was most familiar with. Stopping in front of the scorpion's chambers, Kisame raps lightly on the door and is shortly answered by a less than amused puppet master. His gaze, hooded by heavy eyelids, falls upon the downturned face of his new doll, taking in the dirt stains and mussed hair.
Unimpressed with her behavior, he gives a curt nod of thanks to the other two Akatsuki. Itachi promptly strolls back in the direction they came from and Kisame nudges a resistant Sakura forward.
"Better keep a sharp eye on this one, Sasori-san. She's clever," with that, the swordsman makes his departure, giving Sakura a quick wink before following after Itachi.
Sakura steps into the enemy's room, the door swiftly shutting behind her with an ominous click. Hesitant to do anything while her captor remained so silent, Sakura stands rigidly still, unwilling to meet Sasori's eyes while the feeling of failure was so fresh in her system.
She thought she had been so close, but Itachi and Kisame took her entire escape attempt in stride. It was as if they had known exactly what she planned to do before she even knew it herself. The experience had solidified the fact that she was way below their caliber. Statistically speaking, the longer she remained an Akatsuki prisoner, the less likely she would ever be freed. She didn't even have the luxury of hoping a rescue team would be sent for her any time soon. As far as she knew, Danzo was still in control and most still believed her to be a tragic death in the hospital explosion. To be realistic about the situation, she only had herself to count on…and so far, she had let herself down.
Sasori clucks his tongue at her, agitated as he circles around her to survey the damage. He tips her chin up to the light and studies her scuffed up cheek with distaste. Sakura winces as his fingers lightly brush over the raw scrapes where the gravel had bitten into her skin. But by far, her worst injury was the ugly bruise blossoming to life on her abdomen where Kisame had delivered an exceptionally nasty kick.
But Sasori's feather-light touch had yet to brush across that wound as his inspection seemed to be getting delayed by some inner conflict. His usually serene expression was marred with barely checked frustration and Sakura took a nearly imperceptible step away from the Akatsuki. But that small movement was enough to ignite the red-head's foul temper.
"You impudent little brat!" he seethes.
Sakura eyes the muscles in his neck standing out just above the collar of his shirt.
"I made it perfectly clear that you were restricted to the rooms in this hallway, but as soon as I let you out of my sight you think you can make a break for it. And that fool Deidara is too incompetent to properly look after you," he spits.
"Do I have to actually lock you up for your own good, little girl? You've been well-accommodated here so far, but that can change," Sasori warns.
Sakura's anger spikes at the threat.
He actually makes it sound like I should appreciate what a comfortable kidnapping experience I've had!
Irked by his audacity, Sakura retorts, "I will never stop trying to leave this hellhole. Do your worst, but you can't break me."
Grimly, Sakura thinks she has stunned the Akatsuki into silence as he simply regards her with wide, bewildered eyes. But it only lasts a second before he snaps back, shoving Sakura against the wall and holding her in place with chakra threads when she tries to strike back at him. Already, she was berating herself for not destroying the chakra suppressors as soon as Kisame took them off.
I didn't think it mattered. I thought I wouldn't be here right now!
Sasori sharply exhales through his nose, trying to regain a little piece of his calm.
"Break you?" he questions incredulously, anger glinting bright and hard in his eyes, "Make no mistake, child, none would be as tempted as me."
Sakura could swear her heart stopped for just an instant, despite her medical knowledge telling her otherwise.
"But," Sasori amends, "That is not my intention. If you weren't so blinded by your naivety maybe you would see that," his rage dissipates into a breezy whisper and Sakura feels the now (unfortunately) familiar touch of dexterous hands on her hips, the long, slender fingers splayed wide.
Sasori leans forward, his nose skimming along the edge of her jaw and Sakura is forced to remain perfectly motionless to allow him to do this. With only control over her own facial expressions, Sakura grimaces as his warm breath fans across her cheek, still nonplussed at the proof that he was a living human.
But as Sasori's fingers knead into the flesh at her hips, bringing her closer to him, his thumbs press into the tender, bruised skin of her stomach and Sakura bites back a hiss of pain. Sasori pauses, suspicion seeping into his features as one finger hooks under the hem of her shirt and lifts it up to expose her stomach. Sakura does her best to look down her nose to see the damage, being unable to bend her neck to accommodate the angle. All she knows is that it can't be very pretty.
Sasori's eyes snap up to meet hers, silently accusing.
Blame the blue guy.
Sakura isn't even spared a second to laugh at her private joke before smooth lips crash against her own, heated and searching.
Shocked and glowing red with fury, Sakura's eyes are as wide as saucers as her screams of protest get muffled by the puppet master's hungry mouth. She promptly clamps her lips together, cutting off her scream, late night gossip sessions with Ino having taught her what would happen otherwise. Instead, she strains against the chakra threads, pouring all of her focus into lifting just her arm to beat back the advances of the Akatsuki.
But it was hopeless.
She might as well have been a statue for all the good it did. She couldn't remember ever feeling so weak, so powerless.
Not soon enough, the red-head slows, some of the hungry desperation fading away from his fervent kisses until they become light nibbles on her lower lip. Pulling his head back to observe her abused lips and mortified expression, Sasori is cool and composed and Sakura wonders where the untamed monster from just seconds ago had retreated to. Was it always there, just beneath the surface?
"You look frightened, Sakura," he pronounces each syllable of her name like it was a treasure to be coddled and Sakura is unable to take any joy in the fact that he'd finally called her by her name instead of "little girl".
Sasori cups her face in both hands, his fingers tracing the planes of her cheek bones. She doesn't utter a sound, too shocked and feeling too violated to deny it. She can feel her traitorous lips trembling against her will, but can't seem to stop them.
Sakura had been expecting something like this ever since she arrived at the Akatsuki base. These were criminals who abided by their own laws or no laws at all. As a kunoichi, she had received some of the most basic of training and instruction on how seduction missions were conducted, but her knowledge of it was by no means comprehensive. Plus, as an apprentice to Tsunade, her skills were much too valuable as a medic to ever use her for such missions. Needless to say, Sakura had had little opportunity to gain experience in this particular field and had been silently grateful that the Akatsuki had yet to do anything too wicked to her.
But now this…
It will only get worse from here.
A small smile graces the puppeteer's lips, "What's the matter, darling? Is that all it takes to scare you into submission – a single kiss?"
Sakura can't stand that mocking tone, but she holds her tongue so as not to provoke any more harassment.
Sasori leans forward, his mouth level with her ear as if he were a lover about to indulge her with whispers of sweet nothings.
"You're so fragile, little one. If this is all it takes to make you come undone…I worry for your sake what will become of you here," he pauses to sample the sweet aroma of her hair, a scent that was a combination of shampoo and something that was just so uniquely Sakura. He had to commend himself for knowing true beauty when he saw it.
"When you become as I am – as I once was – '' he corrects himself, a flicker of irritation in his tone, "You will understand the truth of how meaningless a mortal life is. Eternal beauty – that is what I wish to give you, my dear."
"And if I don't want it?" Sakura bites out, at last giving into her, perhaps, foolhardy desire to rile up the now carefully composed Sasori.
"Well," his velvet-like voice considers as the tips of his dark red hair tickle Sakura's nose, "You've never really been the one controlling the strings of your own destiny."
Sasori pulls away from Sakura, smugly satisfied with the crestfallen expression on her face. His fingers twitch and Sakura feels her body respond to his command, making her way to the door.
"Go bathe and return back here when you're finished. It's growing late."
With little input on the matter, Sakura obeys, itching with the desire to disinfect her mouth.
Scooting a mound of sand off to the side, Sakura starts molding a much smaller pile in the indentation she had created. Her tiny fingers claw at the miniscule grains of rock, rounding off the top edge of her creation into two small arcs and tapering off the bottom into a decisive point. Carefully, she wipes away at the edges of the figure to dust away some of the looser sand, throwing her artwork into sharp relief. A short, humming giggle sounds in her throat and she studies her work with pride.
A perfect heart.
Well, perhaps not quite perfect, she realizes. Its symmetry is slightly lacking, but with only her hands for tools she decides it turned out pretty decent. With her work completed, Sakura glances around the playground, suddenly overwhelmed with the loneliness that had been quietly present ever since she first began digging in the sand. She was eight years old, a little too old to be playing in the sandbox, but still much too young to be out at night by herself at the park.
She was all alone.
The swings hung motionless and the gentle whisper of leaves was absent from the heavy branches overhead. The merry-go-round wasn't spinning with its familiar screech of metal and the monkey bars stood silent and empty like an abandoned skeleton. There was something menacing about an empty playground at night, something not quite right; it was as if such a place should only exist in the warm light of day
Sakura wraps her arms around her hunched body. How did she end up here?
It was then that she notices the oddity that had been nudging against the back of her mind, telling her that something really was off about this place even though it mirrored the playground just a few streets over from her childhood home. It was the color. The tones were all muted so that they were nearly indistinguishable from shades of whites, grays, and blacks. It was weak like her poor attempts at water colored paintings when she was a little girl and, at this memory, Sakura gasps at the sudden recollection that she isn't supposed to be a little eight year old girl anymore.
With fear quickly taking over her loneliness, Sakura's eyes dart around the playground, expecting to find some threat lurking at the edges of her vision. The shadows appear much more horrific than they did moments ago, the piles and scratches in the sand made by Sakura's own hands now look as deep and jagged as craters on the moon.
"The moon –!"
Sakura's head jerks up, the moon reflecting in each of her dull green eyes.
It was red.
Hanging low and swollen in the night sky, full like a well-fed tick, the moon loomed overhead. It was the only thing in sight so brightly colored…It was perhaps one of the most evil-looking things she had ever laid eyes on. Lurching to her feet, sand spills from the creases of her clothing, but she can't break her gaze from the moon. Utterly transfixed, she watches with horrified surprise as the color leaches out of the moon…
And the sky rains red.
Droplets of red, thicker than water – thick like blood – fall on every inch of the playground, including Sakura. She throws her hands up over her head, screaming in terror and begging for it to stop.
And it does stop. Almost as quickly as it started, the blood-rain shuts off as if some giant in the sky had heard Sakura and obligingly turned off the faucet. Sakura slowly brings the shield of her arms down, shaking at the sight of all that sticky red coating the chains of the swing she liked best, slickening the plastic slides she raced Ino down and forming puddles in the mulch pits at the bottom, and, worst of all, staining her skin. Sakura can't stop shaking, not even when the blood, defying its usual properties, starts sliding down her limbs to the ground below. It was as if her body was wrapped in some kind of skin-tight layer of plastic that the blood couldn't adhere to. In fact, all around her, she saw the blood behaving the same way, slipping down from the metal and plastic playground equipment.
It wasn't just slipping either. It moved like some invisible force was pulling it, sucking it in like a vacuum.
That central point happened to be the heart Sakura had molded.
All the color that evil moon had spilled upon the Earth was rapidly being drawn to the heart, and as it absorbed more and more, it slowly took on the vibrant red color of the rain. As the last dregs were sucked in, Sakura fell to her knees, her body spent with exhaustion. But she couldn't tear her eyes away from the heart just out of arm's reach.
It pulsed.
Like a living heart, her symbolic one, made of nothing more than sand and whatever fell from the sky, throbbed with a steady beat.
Not even fully aware of her actions, Sakura reaches out a hand to touch it.
But something dark flashes in front of her eyes and the heart is snatched up before she can lay a finger on it.
I've heard that on a man's dying day, his heart will be judged for his sins and his virtues. It isn't a mystery what lies within mine. All the same…
Sakura watches as an arm made of smoke and shadow holds up the beating heart, which had somehow morphed into what Sakura knew a true human heart looked like, and slides it into an equally insubstantial looking chest. But the heart disappears, as if swallowed up by that shadowy cavity and Sakura was left with a specter that appeared to be made of night. Only his eyes, red and spinning with black swirls too fast for Sakura to distinguish the shape of, looked solid and real. When he reached out a hand, Sakura found she couldn't move. Whether it was due to her own fear or by some doing of this shadow creature, she didn't know.
Still, she was surprised when his hand didn't pass straight through her. It was large and solid as it stroked the top of her head and Sakura tried to duck out from underneath it, but he grasped her chin to hold her in place, tiny wisps of smoky shadow curling around his fingers.
Poor child. Not even safe in slumber. There is no where you can go that I can't find you.
"You!" Sakura replies aghast, batting away the hand that dared to touch her. She remembered now. She remembered that voice that haunted her from within her prison cell. That voice that made her question her ability to separate nightmare from reality just the other night.
She knew she had to wake up. It was her only chance of escaping him for now. But no matter how hard she concentrated on willing herself awake, she remained there. Stuck in a playground that was just a sick imitation of the real thing.
Stuck with the monster who trapped her there.
You won't wake up until I will it so. Go ahead and try. There's no helping it.
To prove his point, the shadowed man reaches out his hand again, too fast for Sakura to react to, and pinches her arm.
Not expecting it to, Sakura lets slip a small yip of pain. It felt so real, yet this was surely a dream. An illusion of some sort. The man lets out a short chuckle at her expense, kneeling before her in the sand. Taking Sakura's hand, he places a chaste kiss in the center of her palm, as gentle as a butterfly's landing.
Hopefully, next time we meet you'll be in better form.
The man turns her tiny child's hand over in both of his, measuring it against his own, palm to palm. Sakura wonders at this, thinking perhaps she does have some small degree of control in this place. It was her dream, after all. Focusing all of her concentration into a single thought, she wills the moon to glow brighter. If only there was a bit more light, maybe she wouldn't be so afraid.
For a second, she thinks she's done it. The moon does seem to shine marginally brighter. But the man laughs as if she had just told him a particularly funny joke.
I don't think so, love. I'm the one in control here.
The moon dims, its light barely enough to make out the dark outline of the swing set just a few meters away. Everything beyond that was shrouded in an opaque blackness.
Only those bright red eyes stood out in this place of shadow. The edges of the phantom-man began to blur as he deformed into something much less definite. A swirling, gray mist enveloped Sakura and she was lost in a world that light had never touched.
Until next time.
Sakura couldn't seem to keep her tea in its cup. She mops up the small spills with a hand towel she had found for earlier such mishaps, too shook up to realize she was cleaning up after herself – something she had steadfastly been refusing to do as it was one of her only means of rebelling against her captors. But with that nightmare still fresh in her memory she had found that even small, simple tasks helped relieve some of her anxiety for a few brief seconds.
Who is that man? He has the Sharingan…at least I think he does.
But Sakura didn't think the man was Itachi, even if that was the only logical possibility. There were only two people left in the world with eyes like those, one of them was a member of the organization that had abducted her and the other was a boy who wouldn't have anything to do with her or the village he left behind. So…it had to be Itachi Uchiha.
But the accusation didn't feel true on her tongue. Itachi hadn't tormented her like this when she came across him the day before. He had been infuriatingly confusing, but not malicious. Plus, he hadn't had the same presence about him as this person did. Itachi was daunting, of that there was no doubt, but at least she didn't get the impression that she was speaking with a wolf barely concealed in sheep's clothing.
Agitatedly, she drums her fingers against the lacquered surface of the table.
It was time to rethink how she was going about her escape plans. Tricking them into relieving her of the chakra suppressors probably wasn't going to happen again. She had blown her chance with that, and probably ensured that the Akatsuki weren't about to trust her or be fooled that she was complacent with her status as their captive. She had as good as declared to Sasori that she'd take every chance she got to get out of this place.
So where did that leave her? Was there another angle to work?
And what was Itachi trying to say?
Sakura shook her head, giving up on that train of thought. It was all too much for her. She almost considered her time back in Konoha's prisons, slowly losing her sanity one day at a time, to be preferable to this. At least then she had been home, close to the people she loved even though they didn't know she was there. At least there things had made more sense.
Sighing, she stands up, stretching her back and surveying the mess she had made from lunch. She had slept in late, her body sore from her fight with Kisame as it had been much too long since she had to exert herself like that. She had awoken to find the sheets draped over her legs and her shirt rolled up for a towel and cold compress pack to lie across her bruised abdomen. Surprised and a little upset that she hadn't woken up for any of this care-giving, Sakura had glanced over at Sasori who was lounging in bed beside her, propped up against a stack of pillows with a sketchpad resting on his lap and a charcoal stick in his hand. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the sketches, taking in the exquisite detail he had captured and reading the measurements written in his small, cramped handwriting off to the side.
He had said he'd been working on her designs. Here was proof of that.
Any small feelings of gratitude she may have held were abruptly squelched out of existence. With a quickly souring temper, Sakura had sprung out of bed. Yanking her shirt down, she cast a sharp glare at the bemused puppeteer before exiting with as much dignity as she could muster while sporting bed-head.
That had all taken place a few hours ago and she hadn't seen Sasori since, and she certainly didn't mind that. It had been another small stroke of luck that Deidara hadn't come to join her as he sometimes liked to do when she ate. While he never made her prepare food for him or even serve him tea, he certainly hadn't made it a secret that he wouldn't mind if Sakura felt so inclined to let her womanly domesticity take over.
Cracking her knuckles at the very thought, Sakura reaches into her bowl for a handful of mushy rice and flings it against the new shoji screen door for good measure.
Deciding to go snag a book from Sasori's room to feed her boredom, Sakura steps out into the hallway without a second thought and nearly loses her footing at the silently menacing presence churning the air around her.
How she had forgotten about The Lurker she wasn't sure. It was no easy feat, but she supposed she could attribute it to battle fatigue and…whatever had prevented her from a peaceful night's sleep.
As if scorning her forgetfulness, the dark chakra feels as if it's rubbing against her own, mocking it for being so useless as it remained dormant and unresponsive to her call. This chakra felt stronger, angrier, than it ever had before. It was jumpy, spiking to nearly unbearable intensity that made Sakura want to scream before simmering down to something that could almost resemble controlled before building back up again.
The only reason to make chakra spike like that was to serve as a beacon; to either call someone to you or warn them away.
So which is it?
But Sakura's curiosity was outweighed by the overwhelming urgency to run for someplace safe, if any place in the Akatsuki base could even be considered that.
Just like the last time this occurred, she decided to make a dash for Deidara's room as it was only a few doors down whereas Sasori's was nearly on the complete opposite end of the hallway. She hadn't seen Deidara all that recently and was beginning to wish the annoying artist had crashed her quiet afternoon tea. She didn't think this time would turn out like it had before in which all she had to deal with was a surprise meeting with an insane Jashinist and a little spilled blood.
To meet whoever was responsible for this, certainly wasn't on Sakura's to-do list.
Sprinting for Deidara's door, the malevolent force seems to reach a crescendo in intensity and Sakura isn't sure she's totally imagining the crackle of energy that ripples through the air to hum unpleasantly against her skin. But as soon as she wrenches the door open, the chakra and all its ill intent cuts off. Like switching a light on, it was gone. Instantaneously.
Sakura is immediately riveted by the scene in front of her. Deidara obviously wasn't present, but she wasn't alone in his room.
Sitting in the middle of the floor as if he had every right to be there was a man with a peculiar, orange swirled mask. Tipping his head up to regard the frozen kunoichi, he says a single word:
"Sakura."
That's all it takes for the hairs on the back of Sakura's neck to raise in alarm at that oh-so familiar voice.
She hears the sound of a doorknob jiggling, and only when she looks down at it in uncomprehending shock does she release it from her shaky grip.
Swallowing thickly, once for nerves and twice to allow her tongue to remember how to work properly, she manages one word, "Who –?"
But her mouth clamps shut.
Come on, Sakura! Face your fear! Face it so it has no power over you.
But she is saved from either failing or accomplishing such a task at the arrival of an irate Deidara.
"TOBI!"
Deidara huffs and puffs in the doorway beside Sakura and she imagines she wouldn't be surprised to see steam coming out of his ears.
"Deidara-senpai! Tobi's been a good boy! Tobi made art for Deidara-senpai!"
Sakura nearly gets whiplash from how fast her neck jerks back to gawk at the masked shinobi.
That voice…it isn't anything close to what it was a second ago!
Indeed, this man greeted Deidara with the high-pitched delight of a little kid, much to the obvious annoyance of the blonde Akatsuki. It was nothing like the masculine baritone in which he pronounced her name with; the voice that she could have sworn was a dead ringer for the one that haunted her dreams.
Smacking his fist against the open door, Deidara stomps into his room and lunges for the other man's collar. Shaking him roughly, he snarls, "You little bastard! How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of my room, yeah?!"
"But D-Deidara-senpai!" the masked man blubbers, continuing to bewilder Sakura, "Tobi just wanted to surprise Deidara-senpai with the birdies he made. Look! They're just like Deidara-senpai's!"
The man oddly referring to himself by name, gestures with beseeching hands to the globs of clay scattered about him in a semi-circle on the floor. But, as Sakura observes the pathetically mal-formed "birdies," she's pretty sure the man's explanation isn't helping his case any. Deidara grows red in the face and splutters with rage.
"Idiot! Those are just knock-offs of the real thing, yeah. And piss-poor ones at that," Deidara spits contemptuously, grinding a food into the already squashed- looking body of one of Tobi's attempts at a bird.
"I'll show you true art, yeah!" the artist exclaims, mirthfully bad intentions shining brightly in his blue eye.
Tobi claps his hands together excitedly, bouncing up and down, still in his sitting position on the floor. But that quickly changes as the clay explodes around his feet and he jumps up, his feet dancing to some odd little jig as his arms flail haphazardly around his head.
"Deidara-senpai, make it stop!" Tobi whines in his goofy, high-pitched voice.
Sakura can only watch with weary puzzlement as one Akatsuki chases the other out into the hallway. Her ears ring with a symphony of small explosions as her eyes are dazzled by brief flashes of light.
Author's Note: So at this point, most of the Akatsuki have been introduced. Just in case some of you are unsatisfied with the amount of time certain characters have had with Sakura so far, I hope you'll be happy as most of them will be getting a little more attention in the next chapter and by the end of the story. Speaking of which, I really can't give a good estimate on how many more chapters there will be; I'll probably have a more clear idea after the next update. Oddly enough, I already have the very ending written out (so yay! for having a goal in sight).
Now to address some things from all of your lovely reviews (and I do appreciate them greatly!): As far as pairings go for this story, hopefully that will be answered at the very end. But to make it clear as to where things sit now, it is very much one-sided. Each of the Akatsuki are attracted to Sakura in some way while she is steadfastly holding onto her role as a devoted kunoichi of Konoha and showing no interest in returning their advances. And I'm glad someone else loves it when Madara refers to Sakura as "love." I've seen a few other authors do this as well, and there's just something about it that strikes me as "right." What can I say? I like a creepy, somewhat love-sick Madara in fanfiction.
As for a few side notes in this chapter, I completely made up the lyrics for "Why the Caged Bird Sings." However, there is a beautiful poem called, "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings," by Maya Angelou. It has the same message I tried to evoke in one short verse, only she executes it much more skillfully. As for the other song Itachi plays that I didn't provide any words for, "The Hero's Lament," I completely made up the title. There could very well be songs or poems out there under the same name, but they are unrelated to this story. I was thinking kind of ironically in regards to what Kishimoto has done to Itachi's character in the actual series and if there was ever a song written in tribute to Itachi's life, I think that would serve as an acceptable title.
Song used for this chapter's inspiration: "All Around Me" by Flyleaf.
Thanks for reading!